With This Knife
by YamiHaruko
Summary: Dark and introspective look at Tsuzuki's thoughts. New style. Hints of Hisoka and Tsuzuki. Oneshot and fairly short. Please review, I'd like to know how the style works out.


Author's Notes: Wow! My first Yami no Matsuei fic that I wrote solo. For a long time I've wanted to do this, but I never had the inspiration. Well, it struck in a very weird way this morning. I was cutting an English muffin with a knife and accidently cut my palm very slightly. Then suddenly, it was like a wave of words washed over me, and I had to throw my food into the toaster and start typing before I lost the words. Though, my English muffin was burnt. I guess that's the price I have to pay for this sudden burst of inspiration. :P

Summary: Very kind of dark and introspective look at Tsuzuki and his relationship with others. Thoughts are jumbled and disoriented, so be wary of sudden changes; yes, I did plan it to be like that. This is a oneshot, by the way, in a different style that I kind just went with. Not sure how I feel about it, so make sure to tell me what you thought when you're done, since I really don't know what to think.

Disclaimer: I wished I owned the rights of this story, but alas, I only own the dvds.

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**With This Knife**

With this knife, I scar the flesh of my body. A pain that is only skin deep. It only scratches the surface, never reaching the deep aching I feel in my dead soul. No physical harm could ever amount to all the hurt and damage I feel in my spirit. But I try. I want to feel the pain, even if for just a moment. I want to relish the relief that the sting could bring to my conscious. But-

With this body, the wound heals instantly as if it were never there. A never-ending cycle. A torturous routine that I once again find myself engulfed in. The pain isn't reaching. I watch as the blood trails down the side of my wrist and drips to the white, frozen ground, tainting the untouched purity. What a beautiful picture painted in the snow.

With this cold, I feel numb to the world. Snow. Not entirely befitting. I wish it were raining. Snowflakes are too peaceful as they calmly drift around you. Too playful as they let the winds carry them every which way. Rain is aggressive. Brash and heavy with sorrow as it selfishly pours its tears unto the world. "The skies are crying." I wonder why; they don't seem to have a reason to. Perhaps we don't always need a reason to cry. But-

With these tears, I cry for everything and nothing. I don't like showing these emotions. If _he_ were to see me now, what would he say? I don't want him to see. This part of my heart, my soul, I don't want anyone to see, especially Hisoka. I'm ashamed. I'm too much trouble. Why isn't it raining? Maybe then, I could conceal these shameful tears. Why am I crying?

With this loneliness, my heart dies again. My entire existence, what is the meaning behind it? I am only a burden to everyone I come to meet. No one will stay with me. It's not fair to ask them to. My craving need for affection, it's so selfish that I hate myself for it. How troublesome I am. I will bear the pain of being alone until I shatter. Loneliness. Such a sad word. I hope I shatter soon. But-

With this smile, I can fool the world. Happiness – fake, but happiness nonetheless. I can pretend; I'm good at that. Even a monster like me can smile on the outside. One gift I am grateful for. An almost flawless act, rarely anyone notices. _He _doesn't notice usually. If he rarely happens to, I make excuses. Chief stole my sweets, Tatsumi cut my pay. _Again_. Watari keeps pestering me with new potions. Who would think otherwise with this perfect façade of smiling cheerfulness? I hate for them to worry.

With this rejection, I lock away my heart. As much as I fake the smiles, the laughs, the cheers, I want his attention. I want Hisoka to be able to see through my perfect disguise. But I could never allow that. I can't fully open my heart because people get hurt, people die when I try to help. To love. The aching of his rejection is worst than a hundred deaths over again. You don't know, but the cold words, the relentless insults, the dark glares. They all hurt. More than you could possibly ever realize. But I lock away the pain, pushing it back and keeping a smile. I want you to believe I'm happy when I'm still dying inside after death. I am a hypocrite, a contradiction, a selfish demon. However, what I do not want to be is a burden, an inconvenience, a difficulty. I would hate myself even more. But-

With this hatred, I can deny my existence. My life, who I am, and who I am in the minds of others. I can erase all of it. I exist as a guardian of death. I take lives and guide souls into the afterlife. A shinigami has no right to want to keep humans alive. What an awful being I am. Why do I exist? When I help people, I hurt them. It is inevitable. I cannot trust myself. I _hate _myself. I do not want to exist. I want to return to nothingness. There is no purpose for me. I only bring pain. I want to die.

With this knife, I will continue to die. I will continue to stain the snow crimson. I want to escape this Hell. I no longer wish to be here and exist for nothing. I am an empty space. I want to die. I want to die. I never want to feel this lonely rejection again. Nothingness. It sounds so peaceful. I am just so tired. I am finished with hurting others and being hurt.

With this knife, I say goodbye.


End file.
